


Pacify Our Love

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 20:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: "Make me everything you want"





	Pacify Our Love

**Author's Note:**

> another 2013 original™
> 
> warning: body image issues, unhealthy dieting habits, growl era worryingly thin kim minseok

It's noon, and Lu Han is humming loudly from the dorm kitchen, dressed in just his boxers and an oversized white t-shirt. He's disgustingly proud of his tasteless, mostly burned ramyeon, scooping it sloppily onto proffered bowls and laughing airily at snide remarks and hesitant chuckles (Jongdae makes a point of establishing deliberate eye contact before pouring the entirety down the sink. Joonmyun gulps a little and grimaces with the first slurp). But Lu Han just squawks cheerfully, skating across the tile in his socks to look expectantly at Minseok, long, dark eyelashes fluttering.

It burns his throat, scalds his tongue, and what we can taste past the pain is slimy and watery, but Lu Han is looking for confirmation. And Minseok loves him way too much to not swallow with a wide smile.

Beaming when Minseok holds out his bowl for another helping, Lu Han praises him loudly, cupping his cheek. "My little baozi likes my food," he coos, pausing to shoot a measured glare in Sehun's direction. "Another serving, baozi, so you can stay nice and _plump_." He pinches his cheek lovingly.

Minseok swallows hard, tensing, dropping his chopsticks. But Lu Han doesn't notice as he turns his back to curse at Yixing in Mandarin.

 

Minseok has been doing it for _himself_. Honestly. Mostly. The rules aren't his own, but the drive--the self-satisfaction at the increasing firmness of his body— _is_.

Because sometimes the contrasts in their bodies feel too pronounced. Sometimes the way his thighs looked draped over Lu Han's. Sometimes the press of warm, urgent fingers to the areas that are still too soft.

Minseok has been doing it for _himself_.

(And maybe more officially for the company, for the fans)

But for Lu Han, in a way, too.

Because it's Lu Han's opinion that matters most.

And it's dumb. So, so, so, so, _so_ dumb. But his heart drops, collapsing to somewhere near his feet, and the blood rushes to his face.

He's hurt, and it's dumb. But he can't _help_ it.

 

Lu Han is distracted by his animated conversation with Yixing, shooting rapid-fire colorful insults while the younger laughs mockingly and counters in deeper, harder tones. Minseok excuses himself quietly. Ignoring Joonmyun's heavy, questioning glance, he sneaks off into his unoccupied room. Where he promptly folds his body in half, fights down the sudden, desperate, pathetic, painful urge to cry.

By the time Lu Han clicks his door open, Minseok's lower lip is quivering and he's embracing his pillow tightly. "You left," Lu Han says dumbly, toeing absently at the carpet with his socked feet. "I was going to eat with you, Minseok."

"You said I was fat," Minseok informs him softly because Lu Han's never been one for subtlety. His voice cracks over the last syllable, and Lu Han's gaze snaps to meet his with a gasp.

"Minseok, I didn't—I wouldn't—You're—you're soft, wonderfully soft." Lu Han stumbles forward and over his words, collapsing besides him on the mattress. "And baozis are—they're supposed to be—" He gestures sloppily and then widens his eyes, alarmed at Minseok's breathless hitch and the tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Minseok goes to wipe them with the back of his sleeve, but Lu Han's hand is already there, fingers tender and warm as they brush them quietly away. His hand lingers, and he hesitates before cupping his cheeks, urging his face upwards. Lu Han's eyes are extra soft, brimming with something fond and apologetic. "You're perfect, you know."

Minseok laughs dryly, hunching over and away, folding his knees to his chest.

" _Perfect_ , Minseok," he insists, reaching forward again, tilting to plant a kiss to his nose.

Something presses tight against Minseok's chest, and he breaks Lu Han's heavy stare.

"I didn't—I _wouldn't_ , Minseok." He sighs heavily, wrenching the pillow from Minseok's grasp to clasp his hands.

Minseok huffs indignantly. "You said I was fat," he repeats stubbornly.

Lu Han exhales slowly, and when he turns to look at him he's giving Minseok that _look_. That I-love-you-so-much-Minseok-and-I-really-don't-give-a-fuck-if-everybody-knows _look_. That I'm-open-and-transparent-and-kinda-tragically-reckless-and-you're-kinda-my-everything _look_. That reassuring, searing, squirm-inducing, heavy, heavy look. And Minseok feels little and naked and unworthy.

He drops his gaze immediately, wrings his hands into his plaid pajama bottoms. "You said I was fat," he mumbles this time.

 _And even if you didn't mean it,_ I _mean it when I say that's the last thing I want to be, Lu Han. I'm always trying to be enough, Lu. For you, for the company, for the fans. And you, you're always looking at me like I'm already enough, but I'm not. And you, you like to take care of little, unloved things, and I don't want to be that for you. I want to be radiant and beautiful for you. I want to be everything you need. And sometimes it's like you love me more than I love you, but that's only because you don't see the insecurities and ugly parts. And that's why it hurts, Lu Han. You love me too much, and I don't deserve it. And you're starting to see the cracks, and and and—_

He jumps when Lu Han cups his cheek, brushing briefly over his eyebrow.

"I love your eyes," Lu Han starts, voice hesitant. He thumbs them briefly closed, soothing over his fluttering eyelids. "Dark and beautiful. Prettiest when they're looking _right at mine_." He speaks shyly, and his own doll eyes are laden with an affection that makes Minseok feel too hot and too small.

Minseok releases a shuddering sigh, and the younger continues in his persuasion, fingers whisper-soft.

To his eyebrows, his nose, his cupid's bow, his lips, his cheeks— _especially_ these, Minseok—his chin. By the time he gets to his neck, Minseok is biting back a sob, and Lu Han is caressing his lips over the trembling skin. Mouthing at his fluttering pulse, he urges him back into the mattress. He hovers over him, eyes extra bright, burning down at him.

"Everything about you is perfect," he declares, rubbing lazy circles into Minseok's hipbone. "Every single thing. My perfect, beautiful little baozi."

Minseok stiffens at the endearment, and Lu Han presses a warm, succulent, distracting kiss to his goose-bumped skin.

Lu Han's always makes a point of pressing hard, bruising caresses and praises to his body. Searing _I love you_ 's and _You're everything_ 's. Tattooing languid, almost drunken declarations that all hinge on that particular pet name. Not just soft, white, and tender, but _delicious_ , _tempting_ , _essential_. But this time, when Minseok tenses, Lu Han is quick to recover, chanting Minseok's name, instead. He centers it on the physical, whispers that he's in love with Minseok's beautiful, perfect, perfect body.

A protest bubbles deep in Minseok's chest, curls painfully around his lungs, clawing its way up his throat, but Lu Han silences him with a kiss.

Soft and slow, barely there. As hesitant and fleeting as their first, but pregnant with so much love and meaning that Minseok is left reeling. Overwhelmed, he melts into it, sighing against Lu Han's mouth as the younger shifts to remove his shirt.

"Let me think you're perfect, Minseok," he breathes, forehead to forehead, thighs encasing his, and Minseok more tastes the words, feels them vibrating against his lips, than hears them. "Let me love everything about you,okay?"

But Lu Han kisses him again, murmuring something low and sibilant in reverent Mandarin, before Minseok has a chance to respond.

"I should prove it to you," he says, voice hushed and warm against Minseok's chin. "Will you let me?"

Minseok nods slowly, swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat.

 

It's torture. It's own kind of painful.

The man that matters most dragging his fingers, his lips, his tongue over every sensitive, soft inch of skin. Butterfly kisses and tender murmurs weaving along his collarbone, his nipples, his hipbone, his stomach, Lu Han reminds him that he's perfect. That he loves _all_ of him as he apologizes breathily for making him doubt himself. Because Minseok is perfect, the most beautiful, in his entirety, and Lu Han could never want for anything else. Lu Han is slow and calculated and devastating, so that Minseok's eyelids flutter as his heart swells and overflows.

Exhaling softly, he lingers at Minseok's stomach the longest, arching into the caress Minseok presses against his temple, as he nuzzles. "My favorite, Minseok. Soft, wonderfully soft exactly how I like my baby." One hand on his hip, the other rubbing teasingly over dark nipples, Lu Han mouths the smooth, tender flesh, angling purposefully so Minseok's half-hard erection doesn't brush against his chest like it's _aching_ to do. He presses kisses along the waist band of Minseok's pajama pants, whispering against his skin, nosing along the fine hair at his bellybutton until Minseok is trembling, whining.

Lu Han peels his pants and underwear off in a smooth movement. "This part," he whispers, stroking his thumb along the base of Minseok's erection, "not so soft. But I think I like it the best." Minseok whimpers at the _adoration_ in his eyes.

Minseok bucks when he places a gentle, lingering kiss to the crown, licking softly. Lu Han wraps a loose fist, urging him to full hardness with purposeful strokes. He kisses along Minseok's thighs, praising them, too, with low murmurs informing him that they feel amazing—supple, soft, thick—wrapped tight around Lu Han's waist, look beautiful covered in sweat or in hickies, pale skin flushed with arousal, that they make glorious smacking sounds every time Lu Han fucks him into the mattress. Minseok moans, fingers tightening in Lu Han's hair.

His hips lift restlessly, and Lu Han smiles against his skin lips pink and extra beautiful, before taking him into his mouth. Into warm, wet, delicious heat. He seems to makes a point of communicating that adoration again as he hollows his cheeks. Gliding up and down the length as he works his hand in slow, perfect strokes, Lu Han garbles about how amazing he is again. How beautiful and hot and hard and _delicious_. Minseok cradles Lu Han's cheeks, thrusting upward gently, and Lu Han gasps, disengaging with a loud pop. He continues to stroke, smearing his thumb along the slit of Minseok's throbbing erection.

"I think," he manages, his voice husky, his eyes dark, "that you should definitely fuck me."

He couples the proposal with another swipe of his thumb, and Minseok arches helplessly, panting Lu Han's name

"I really want that, Minseok," he continues, flicking his wrist. Minseok sees stars. "Want you inside. Want you to fuck me."

Minseok agrees with a drawn-out groan.

Lu Han flips their positions, spreading his legs easily, hooking them around Minseok waist to urge him closer.

It's a strange kind of reassurance, Minseok thinks, hand heavy on Lu Han's hip, soothing him quiet as he slicks his fingers and works him open. Because the two fell together easily that first time so many months ago, the intimacy effortless and instinctual, the roles they play natural and intuitive. Minseok clinging, digging crescent into Lu Han's sweaty shoulder blades, moaning high under the delicious force of Lu Han's hips. It made _sense_.

But it's a new kind of right when Lu Han's body gives way, flushing darkly and blossoming beneath his fingers and lazy kisses. Lu Han whines, begs to feel all of him, finally be given what Minseok has been taking. Nodding languidly, Minseok swallows down the insecurity and self-consciousness pooling low in his gut.Minseok snaps latex into place, angles Lu Han's pliant body.

And it's a powerful kind of persuasion as Lu Han, laid bare before him, squeezes around him, swallowing him slowly and completely. _Accepting_ him, Lu Han arches, gasping for air.

Minseok braces himself on the bars above his mattress as he rocks gently forward until he's sheathed fully. He pants at the exquisite heat. Tight, slick, _pulsing_ around him. The pleasure is almost suffocating, and his lover quivers beneath him, eyes glazed and half-lidded, slick red lips puffing around Minseok's name.

Minseok's head crashes forward to mouth at Lu Han's neck as a distraction because _holy shit_ , and he laughs breathlessly as Lu Han whines again, clenching his fingers into Minseok's trembling biceps. "So, so, so, so good," he whimpers. "You feel so good."

"You've been holding out," Minseok whispers, voice cracking.

Lu Han breathes out that he wants it as he wraps his thighs around Minseok's waist. Minseok smiles against him, pulling back slowly—each tortuous inch a glorious, clenching ache against his cock—before thrusting back in purposefully. Lu Han cries out.

Sympathy, memory informs his careful movements. Eyes trained on Lu Han's sweaty, beautiful face, Minseok builds a steady rhythm. Until Lu Han is clinging tightly, scrambling for purchase, molding bruises across the expanse of Minseok's shoulders, groaning with every powerful descent.

"Go fast a—and hard," Lu Han breathes shakily. "L—like I do with you."

Minseok sucks a mark onto his neck as he complies, rolling his hips and dragging purposefully along Lu Han's walls with heaving slams forward. Lu Han melts back into the mattress, increasingly vocal. And the sounds and sensations are almost painfully new, Lu Han trembling as he grinds back, making brand new small, desperate, needy sounds, that have Minseok fucking forward even harder. Lu Han groans, urging him in beautiful disarray, even more beautiful need.

Lu Han tangles his fingers in Minseok's hair, drags him down to pant open-mouthed and dirty against his lips. Minseok snaps forward, continues to pound into the velvety pull of Lu Han's writhing body, collecting every breathless praise and reckless confession.

Reminders that he's beautiful and that his body is perfect and that oh _God_ this is his first time like this but of course it's fucking perfect and fucking overwhelming and fucking everything he had ever imagined because Minseok is beautiful and perfect, just drowning him in all this pleasure as he takes him with his perfect, perfect body and oh _God_ it's even hotter when Minseok's thighs clap against his ass and oh _God_ the drag of Minseok's soft tummy against his cock and oh _God_ Minseok right there right there right there oh _God_ he's gonna die it feels so good oh _God_ please don't stop.

Lu Han moans the loudest when Minseok reaches out to grip him tightly. Maneuvering so he can hit his prostrate straight on, Minseok kisses him quiet as he jerks him off in quick strokes. Lu Han thrashes helplessly, begging for more but whining that it's too much. That he's so full, Minseok's so big and he just _needs_ a little more. Minseok bites down on Lu Han's lower lip, sucking it sloppily into his mouth as he flicks his wrist and slams forward. And Lu Han comes. Shuddering violently, he spills over Minseok's fingers and his own stomach, panting out another broken, garbled praise.

He goes limp in Minseok's hold, and Minseok drops his arms to fold Lu Han's body in half, increasing the tightness against his own cock, seeking his own pleasure and release as Lu Han moans his name. It takes 3,4 erratic, mattress-thumping thrusts before he's whining through his own orgasm, fucking erratically through the haze of it before collapsing forward. And Lu Han is there to catch him, tucking his body clumsily to his side, repeating endearments.

Lu Han is pretty, breathless, and disheveled, and he's giving Minseok that _look_ as he pets his fingers across Minseok's sweaty brow. Minseok kisses his palm, disengaging briefly enough to dispose of the condom and grope for tissues to clean Lu Han off before nuzzling into his warm, glistening skin.

"Minseok?" he whispers softly, dropping one hand to the dip of his belly button, teasing over the skin. "So soft," he murmurs absently, laughing softly when Minseok's stomach jumps.

Minseok hums in acknowledgment, and Lu Han hesitates, breath hot right against his shoulder. Lu Han's never been very good with words, and even worse right after orgasm, so Minseok waits, tracing slowly over Lu Han's ribs.

"I really—I didn't—I like you soft, but if you want to not be—I just love _you—_ " He pauses to sigh heavily, and Minseok meets his eyes. "I didn't meant to hurt your feelings. And—and you don't have to impress me or _anybody_ , Minseok. You're perfect."

Minseok swallows slowly. "I'm not perfect, Lu Han." And that's not the point. Not really. It's deeper and more complicated.

Lu Han blinks, eyebrows knitting together. He licks his lips slowly, and Minseok drops his gaze to kiss his skin. "You're at least everything I want, then, Minseok, you know. All I could ever want or need." Biting his lip, Lu Han brushes his fingers reverently along his cheek.

Minseok exhales shakily, eyes fluttering shut, melting into the caress.

"So can I call you baozi again?"

Minseok snorts

"You're so _perfect_ ," Lu Han breathes anyway, equal parts loving and defiant.

 

(And later there's a conversation that Minseok doesn't feel quite ready to have with lots and lots of kisses from a soft-eyed and quietly contemplative Lu Han. And later, after Minseok finds the strength of will to untangle himself from Lu Han's persistent embrace and find their clothes, they emerge from the room. A little apologetic and a lot embarrassed, Minseok tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, and Lu Han picks at his pants. Chanyeol's face pinches unattractively as he laughs. And even later Kyungsoo makes a point of baking him a cake and Yixing staking his plate high with noodles, both cooing over the oldest hyung in something resembling condescension, but undercut with almost embarrassing affection. And Minseok hopes it's something unspoken—unaddressed—intuitive and not pitying, the way that Jongdae sidles next to him on the stool, threading their fingers together and humming absently about how handsome he is and how much he admires him, squeezing his wrist hard before Minseok has a chance to respond. Or the way that Tao nuzzles into his shoulder, patting soothingly over Minseok's sides and whispering about how Minseok is great for cuddling and how he's missed their hug sessions since the room shuffles because Minseok _understands_ him and Minseok indulges and Minseok is so _warm_. Or the way that Joonmyun and Kris tag team stumble through a family meeting, rattling on about stress relief and the importance of communication and sensitivity and the use of Kind Words. Minseok hopes it's something unspoken, unaddressed, intuitive, and not pitying when Sehun compliments him during dance rehearsal—his face twisted into something akin to hesitance and shyness—as he rushes out about how smooth and sharp Minseok's movements always manage to be, and Jongin nods enthusiastically in agreement, dropping his hands to Minseok's waist in appreciation as he asks him to recreate the steps, his hands solid and warm against sweaty skin. Or when Chanyeol and Baekhyun invite themselves to his game with Lu Han and promptly lose—not on purpose—collapsing in a winded heap on the wet grass and blinking up at the sky blearily, unnecessarily loud as they pontificate on the obvious merits of physical activity and Minseok's unbelievable stamina. And later, four days later, in bed, Lu Han calls him baozi over and over again, his fingers devastating as he pants it over Minseok's trembling skin. Delectable, he insists, devouring him)


End file.
